The Damage of a Great Love
by Missmishka
Summary: AU Post-Entropy. Spike leaves Sunnydale to find the Trials after being with Anya and Buffy is left to deal. Full summary inside. CHAP 6 Uploaded. Heavy on emotion, eventual Spuffy ending, please R&R.
1. Default Chapter

DISCLAIMER:

Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all characters therein are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox and a whole host of others too numerous to list so suffice it to say, they ain't mine. *sighs* More's the pity. Nothing written here by me is intended to infringe upon the copyrights of the rightful owners of the entities cited. Don't sue, I have no money. If you insist though, I'll give you my credit card debt. :-P

Author's Notes:

I have become utterly obsessed with rewriting Spike & Buffy's past and future. After the positive acceptance of "It Was" and "It Will Be Again" I've begun working on stories that redo my favorite Buffy episodes to make them Spuffier. This story will eventually lead to that. I've decided to work from the final episodes back to the very beginning where I think it all could have gone so differently. 

This series, which will be very heavy on angst, drama, bitterness, anger, love, hate, regret, remorse, etc., begins at the end of "Entropy" (late season 6, BEFORE "Seeing Red") and goes completely a/u or as I wish it had really been after that. It will be much slower to update than my last series because of the time required to find just the write song to fit the mood of each chapter, but I want to get it uploaded and test things out asap to see what kinda interest there is and also to get feedback and perhaps suggestions that can help me if I get stuck looking for a particular kinda song. As always, feel free to review or email me at missmishka@aol.com with comments, criticisms or anything at all. I'm a chatty type, I'll reply asap. 

The R rating is for language used as well as the potential for violence and/or sexual situations in later chapters. The title is taken from the following dialogue between Spike & Buffy in "Seeing Red" just before the attempted rape scene:

__

"Spike: Great love is wild … and passionate and dangerous. It burns and consumes.

Buffy: Until there's nothing left. Love like that doesn't last."

Story Summary:

This story is a series of chapters, each inspired by lyrics of a different song, that will vary in length and the tone of their content. Most chapters will be heavy on angst and 'deep thoughts' from Spike & Buffy.

The basic idea?

Beginning at the end of episode 6x18 (Entropy) this series explores what might have happened with the series if Spike left Sunnydale after the 'Anya' incident. Spike goes to find the Demon Trials and some kind of resolution to his problems while Buffy is left behind to deal with her friends' reactions to learning of the things she'd done with Spike, her confusing reactions to the vampire's departure and, of course, the pesky Geek Squad all on her own.

Little things begin working themselves out. Her friends and Dawn adjust to the news. Tara and Willow get back together. Andrew, Jonathan and Warren get locked up for their illegal activities. And things begin to return to the hellmouth's version of normal.

Except Buffy's realizing the full extent of her feelings for the absent blonde vampire she'd treated so poorly.

Spike, meanwhile, is fighting his way through the trials to get that which he seeks. That which will free him from the unbearable love he feels for the Slayer.

After some time passes a wish brings them back together, but the results are not what the wishmaker had been hoping for. A soulful Spike is returned to Sunnydale against his own wishes and Buffy must deal with quite a few painful changes in the man who had so devotedly loved her for so long she didn't know what to do without that love. 

And with this new Spike in town she has to face the shattering truth that he no longer loves her like that and it's all her fault.

Can she handle the reversal of their roles? 

Her loving him and he unwilling to return the emotion?

Can she get his love back?

Is there any way to fix all the damage that has been done?


	2. Are You Happy Now?

**__**

Are You Happy Now?

//Do you really have everything you want?//

//You could never give somethin' you ain't got//

//You can't run away from yourself//

//Could you look me in the eye//

//And tell me that you're happy now, yeah , yeah//

//Come on, tell it to my face or have I been replaced//

//Are you happy now?//

Michelle Branch, _"Are You Happy Now"_

~*~

__

It wasn't real, Buffy told herself even as Willow and Xander's reactions told her what she saw on the computer screen was truly there. _He wouldn't do that._

She kept telling herself that as her disbelieving green eyes remained wide open and watching Spike's lips and hands and body move over Anya's on a table at the Magic Box. 

__

"You have to move on."

Not even an hour ago she'd spoken those words to him. Trying yet again to completely sever the ties between them, wanting him to stop loving her as he did and move on so she'd stop hurting him. Hurting them both.

Now it appeared he was taking her advice for once and doing all the things he'd driven her crazy doing. Doing them to Anya.

__

"I don't hurt you."

Spike's words replayed in her head and her chest ached as she couldn't take her eyes off his familiar body covered in that black leather duster writhing above and thrusting into the blonde woman on the video feed. She'd believed him when he said it. Believed he wouldn't hurt her.

And this shouldn't be hurting, she told herself as she gulped back tears she felt forming as she watched. 

But, oh God, it did.

Some part of her hears Willow say her name and she snaps her attention from the computer to see Dawn and the redhead looking at her a bit worriedly. 

"That's enough," she hoped her voice didn't sound as hurt and broken to them as it did her as she turned away from the monitor and left the room.

The backyard doesn't offer much sanctuary, but it's the only place she can think to go to flee the images. Not that there's any escaping them.

Spike – her Spike – with Anya. 

With someone else. 

Not with her.

She finds a chair and sits down in it hard as the ache in her chest increases and spreads through her entire body. Every inch of her that he's ever touched hurts and there isn't an inch of her inside or out that he hasn't touched. 

"So," she hears Dawn speaking from nearby but doesn't look up. _Can't look up._ "This is it? This is the stuff you've been protecting me from? You and Spike?"

Something pierces her heart at the linking of their names together, but she tries not to let it show as she responds to her sister, "And a lot of monsters."

"Uh-huh," typical teenager response.

"But it's over," her gut clenches painfully over the words and she starts replaying it all again. 

The last words she spoke to Spike in his crypt so short a time ago. Telling him to move on, it wasn't real for her, it was over and him ordering her to get out. Seeing him on Anya with the other woman's clothing opened and pushed aside for his hands and lips to touch her flesh as he took her body. 

And she'd meant it, she told herself firmly. _It wasn't real for her like it was for him. It was over. He needed to move on. What they had had had to stop._

So why were tears wetting her cheeks as she kept her gaze averted from her sibling to stare at the ground as the pain inside her refused to stop?

"Buffy," her head snaps up at the sound of Willow's voice coming urgently from the direction of the back door to the house. "Xander's gone. He took your axe."

Suddenly the pain stopped as she went completely numb.

Xander. Gone. Angry and hurting with an axe.

"Oh, God. Spike," she doesn't care in that moment that she spoke the horrified realization aloud and revealed to the others that she was afraid.

After gulping in a breath of air like she did after receiving a sharp blow to the stomach, Buffy's on her feet and running toward the Magic Box where her friend was likely headed to kill the blonde vampire he'd seen with his former fiancée. 

She refused to think as she ran. Then ran harder and faster until she was moving at a pace she'd never known she could move at. The tears dry on her face while she tries to pretend she issn't praying. Tries to pretend that her heart isn't pounding with panic in addition to exertion at every second that passes without her being at the shop yet. 

__

Oh, God, don't let me be too late, her labored breaths and running pounding footsteps echo loudly in her head with the plea as she rounds a corner and finally gets the store in her sights.

No, no, no, no, no, her inner mantra changes as her eyes widen and focus on Xander pulling a stake from his coat with every apparent intention of driving it into Spike's chest, who was just leaning against the shop front without any fight.

Somehow she found even more speed to run those last few feet separating her from the two men in a blur of frantic motion and the second the gap closed she threw out her hands and shoved Xander away. The brunette recovers his balance and turns to glare at her, but she doesn't care that his anger may be turning on her. She's gulping air into lungs that she doubts she ever before pushed so hard and thanking God she made it in time. 

Then they're no longer glaring at each other as her friend turns to glare at Anya and Spike and her pain comes rushing back. Part of her hears the ex-vengeance demon and Xander talking, but all her attention is now focused on Spike. The sight of his gaping black shirt, parted by someone else's hands, makes her want to vomit because she knows that shirt. 

She's ripped it and others like it open and off his sculpted chest to allow her hungry hands and lips access to the pale, cool skin beneath. She's watched him slowly and teasingly unbutton that shirt as she waited for him to join her in his bed. She's worn that shirt a time or two around his crypt or home from a particularly primal joining in which her own shirt somehow got ruined by impatient hands tearing it off. 

No one else was supposed to be touching his clothes like she did and this vivid proof that another woman had sickened her.

"Didn't take you long, did it?" she doesn't care that her tone reveals the hurt and bitterness she feels.

Spike doesn't answer her, just stays there looking back at her like he still has the right. Like he's done nothing wrong. Has no reason to respond to her or apologize or ask forgiveness. Like he doesn't know something inside her is hurting so bad she could scream at the pain, grab Xander's stake and plunge it into the invitingly exposed chest of her vampire lover.

__

But he has to know all that. Has to know that this is hurting her a thousand times more than him dragging some random skank to Anya and Xander's failed wedding, her aching heart says as the conversation continues around her. _He has to know because he always knows. He knows everything about her. He knows her better than she knows herself and she wants to scream at only realizing_ _it now._

"I look at you," Xander's words to Anya slowly begin reaching Buffy's subconscious, "and I feel sick. 'Cause you had sex with that."

Shame cuts at her ragged emotions as her friend follows his words of disgust and contempt with a careless wave at Spike who calmly retaliates to the insult by saying, "It's good enough for Buffy."

Just like that the secret's out and they react just like she'd known they would. She can see the shock and disbelief Anya and Xander both feel upon seeing the truth of Spike's words in the guilty way she's trying to avoid their stares. 

The old Buffy inside her needs to explain and demand understanding and acceptance from her friend, but he refuses to listen to her. Then the stake in his hand clatters to the sidewalk and he walks away without even looking at her when she opens her mouth to speak to him.

Her hurt filled green eyes turn to the silent blonde vampire she blamed for this as she tended to blame him for everything else lately and when she saw no regret or remorse in his expression at having made the revelation she can't bear to look at him any more.

It didn't matter as she turned silently and walked away from the Magic Box that she'd literally told him he could go ahead and tell her friends. That she didn't much care about them knowing and she'd said they could deal with the news. It had been more of her lies. More words she threw out at him without any regard for the effect they'd have on him. She'd never thought he'd do it. 

__

Just like she'd never thought he'd move on.

Tonight was an eye opening experience and she wanted nothing more than to close them again and get the blinders back on.

~*~*~

She didn't want to be there, but Buffy knew as her aimless wandering eventually led to Spike's crypt that once again it was the only place she had to go. She couldn't go home and face Dawn or Willow and she had to try and work this pain out. Had to make it stop hurting and just be angry. Just hate Spike again like she told herself she always had and always would. She just had to stop the feeling bad about herself. 

She didn't like it.

When she arrived to find the door to his crypt open her heart stopped beating for a moment as she feared Xander had come here to finish the job. Then she heard familiar movements and British curses from inside the chamber and refused to call the breath that escaped her a sigh of relief.

"Was beginning to think you wouldn't show," he appeared suddenly in the doorway wearing the same clothes he'd had on before minus his coat to lean casually against the frame.

"You know me so well," she sneers to hide the truth of her statement.

"That I do, pet," he turns back into the crypt and she follows automatically. "Your shiny happy world of denial's come crashing in on you and you've come to kick my bloody head in for it. Nothing like abuse of this corpse to make you feel all tingly inside, right Slayer?" he goes to his kitchen area and picks up a tumbler of amber liquid. "'Cept this time I'm not letting you. Your bloody point's been made tonight. I'm done."

"Huh?" not her most eloquent comeback, but there's something in his tone and posture that's striking some emotion inside her.

"I'm done," he repeats clearly with his blue eyes emotionless as they look straight into hers.

In that instant she recognizes the emotion he's striking inside her. It's fear and she leans back against a wall and stares at him blankly as it begins to spread through her.

"Moving on to Anya now?" she glares at the thought.

"No. Just moving on," he empties his glass, refills it from a bottle of scotch on the table then gives her a little toast. "That's where your happy comes in, luv. I'm granting your bloody wish and getting out of this Hell."

"You're leaving?" 

__

Why isn't that giving her the happy he seems to think it should?

"Don't worry, I'm not expecting any parting gifts. Just do a bloke a favor and keep your stake sheathed till I hit the city limits."

"You're leaving?"

"Yes," he finally notices her lack of celebration and stalks toward her like a panther sneaking up on its prey. "Figured I'd take a lesson from the other gits in your life and just go. Tried to do it my own way," he comes to a stop a few feet from her, "stick it out with you through thick and thin to show this wasn't just a fleeting fancy. That what we've got," he reaches out and grabs her chin firmly before she can look away, "what I feel for you and you bloody well feel for me, is real and gonna last."

"How can you say that?" she violently smacks away his hand and shoves him back. "If you felt anything real for me you never would have done this. And don't give me that damned 'Well, I'm evil' bullshit. That works with skanky hos you pick up off the street to make me jealous, this is beyond evil. Beyond you. How could you go to her?" she tries to slam her fist into his face, but he blocks the blow and the kick she tries to follow it with. "How could you do that with her?!" she continues trying and failing to hit him as he seems to be anticipating her every wild strike. "How could you go to one of my friends for that?!"

"First," he notices she no longer has questions to hurl at him with her punches and easily pins her back against the wall, "I say it 'cause I mean it. Love ain't pretty and I sure as Hell didn't want it with you, but I've got it and I can't bloody shake it no matter what I've tried. You keep denying it and calling it whatever you want, but the truth will remain I love you, Buffy, and you know it. You damned well love me back, too, but you're too damned self-righteous to admit it," again he thwarts her attempts to look away. "Second, love dunnit have a thing to do with what you saw tonight. I got an itch you won't scratch 'cause you're too bloody pig headed to admit what we've really got so I found another way to ease it. I'm sorry 'bout who I did it with and where and why and pretty much sorry about the whole bloody mess, but don't you look down you little nose at me for seeing a chance to feel nothing but a nice, no strings attached release without the bleeding bullshit you put a guy through for a tumble. All that said and done, though, I didn't go to the gal for a shag," he moves away from her suddenly and went to pick up his bottle and takes a swig straight from it. "Went there for what the bloody shop specializes in. Magic," he scoffs then turns to glare in her direction. "Wanted to find myself a little spell."

"You were going to use a spell on me?" she looks at him with horrified revulsion at the thought of him trying to get to her like he'd once planned to get Drusilla back years ago. 

"No," he looks her straight in the eye. "This stopped being about you the second you made it clear you weren't ever gonna give up your damned denials with your bloody speech about this only being real for me. Your believing the wanker's bullshit about me being the one planting cameras all about you was the last bloody straw. I get the picture, you'll always only see me as a monster no matter what the hell I do for you and that's the lame excuse you'll always use for not admitting you love me," he sighs heavily. "The spell was for me. I wanted to make this bleeding hell stop. To get rid of this," his hand thumps against his chest over his unbeating heart. "I don't want you in here, dammit. I hate loving you just as much as you hate having me love you," she stares at him a bit blankly and he scoffs at something he sees in her expression. "You really have no idea how hard this is for me," he takes another swig from his bottle then turns away from her to hurl it against the wall. "Not for one bloody second since I realized it have I been glad that I feel this bloody way. All it's _ever_ made me feel is hurt and disgust and self hatred and shame and contempt. Do you know how bloody weak this makes me?" he turns back at her with wild eyes that skim over her but don't seem to see her. "Not just as a laughingstock of a vampire, but as anything. It's pathetic and you never once had to be the one to break that news to me. I've known it the whole damned time. But I could never stop it," she thinks she sees tears gleaming in his eyes and feels her heart wrench at the sight, but he turns away again before she can be sure of their presence. "So I went lookin' for magic. Some bloody spell or charm or any fucking trick to make me stop feeling this 'cause I apparently don't have the stones to do it myself. I love you and you won't let yourself love me and I'm done with it," he's cold and composed when he looks at her again, even has his trademark smirk in place. "Didn't really plan on Anya bein' in the same dire straits and having lots of handy alcohol to make a quick fuck seem like a bloody good idea, though. That made for a pleasant li'l surprise."

The crypt falls completely silent for a moment and they stare at each other without really seeing anything. 

She was too stunned by the hate and anger and bitterness with which he speaks to her about this, saying things in ways only she was supposed to have the right to say to hurt him. He was dealing with some measure of relief at getting all this off his chest and finally letting her know that the pedestal she thought herself to be on above him and normal people wasn't so bloody high after all.

"You should've let him kill me," he says softly into the silence, interrupting her thoughts and causing her eyes jerk up to see that he truly means the words. "Would've been doing us all a bloody favor."

"No," she whispers with a slow shake of her head at the mere suggestion. "I could never do that."

"Might wanna stop and think about why that is one of these days."

"I know why it is," she wraps her arms around her waist and turns away from him. "I have feelings for you, Spike."

"Yeah, pet, just _feelings_," he scoffs at her and she hears a familiar flapping sound and realizes he's putting on his leather duster. "Keep denying that _love_ is among those feelings. I'm done trying to prove it to you."

She turns back and notices him moving around, gathering up his few remaining belongings after Riley destroyed the crypt's lower level and shoving them into a leather saddlebag.

"You really expect me to fall for this?" she watches the last of his clothes get shoved into the satchel before he closes it up. "I'm supposed to throw myself at your feet after everything that happened tonight and declare a love for you I don't feel to stop you from leaving? Like I could ever really get rid of you," she strives for a sneering tone and succeeds if the way he stiffens is any indication.

"My bloody lot in life," he slings the bag over his shoulder and turns to glare at her. "Human or vampire I'm destined to fall for the worst bloody bitches I can find," he gives a derogatory laugh and continues bitterly. "Find myself a nice unattainable chit and throw myself before her to be her slave, her punching bag, her joke - any damned thing she wants and is it ever enough for your lot? No," he turns away and rakes his fingers through his hair. "Nothing I ever do is enough for you. Could never be worthy of Cecily with my station in the aristocracy and those bloody awful poems. Could never kill or be evil enough for my Dru to replace the damned poofter in her affections and you," he stalks toward her with such anger she backs away fearfully, "you're the worst of them all. It apparently isn't bad enough that I devoted a hundred years to Drusilla, who never stopped mooning over Angelus, I had to come all this way to fall for you. Another of Angel's damned castoffs and a Slayer to boot," another self loathing mockery of a laugh escapes his lips. "God, you should have let Harris stake me. Shoulda done it yourself years ago, but that wouldn't have been nearly as much fun for you, would it have? Wouldn't have had Spike to beat up and abuse and blame for every damned wrong in your delusional little life these past … two fucking years, Buffy!" he shouts and storms away from her. "Two years - sure I didn't spend every day being all noble and lover-like, but that was your own damned fault - I've done nothing but prove I can be whatever the hell you want or need me to be and what the fuck's it earned me? A few times between those dimpled knees of yours and nothing but heartache. I've tried to prove it to your damned friends and it's the same bloody thing. Nothing I ever do will be enough for any of you and I am done trying. See how well you get along without me to scratch you bleeding itches. And believe what you will about this," he turns his back on her and stalks toward the crypt's entrance. "You'll see soon enough I'm not bothering anymore," he pauses on the threshold but doesn't look back. "Tell the bit I'm sorry, if she even cares anymore. Tell her I'll still be watching out for her when I can. I just can't stay here to do it anymore."

Buffy's brain was lagging. His words and actions weren't computing fast enough for her to do anything as it was all so slow to sink in and make any kind of sense to her. But one thing was painfully clear as she pushed herself from the crypt and ran through the cemetery when she heard the sound of a motorcycle's engine revving up.

Spike was leaving.

And as she made it to the street just in time to watch a single red taillight racing away she knew Spike was gone.

Everything from the last few hours rushed forward and began swirling chaotically in her head as she stood there swaying for a moment then flopped tiredly down to the ground. It was too much to deal with. 

She wasn't ready for this. Didn't want any of this_. _

God she hated this place. Hated be back here alive on Earth feeling these kinds of feelings again. She hadn't asked for it. She never asked for any of the mess her life had been for so long.

Why was any of this happening to her? 

Words, actions, events and emotions all blurred together in a dizzying mess that she could make no sense of until she cried out and put her hands to her head and shook it to try clearing away the debris.

She had no idea how long she stayed there trying to regain control of herself and her thoughts and convince herself that none of this mattered, but eventually she managed to stop it and clamber back to her feet to start walking blindly down the street that had taken the blonde vampire out of town.

As she stumbled along one thought continued to repeat itself as it had since she first heard Spike's avowal that he was finally leaving.

Why isn't that giving her the happy it should?


	3. Running Back to You

**__**

Running Back to You

//You can't just dis me when you wanna//

//Or come and go when you wanna//

//I hear you playing around when you wanna//

//Anytime that you wanna//

//Or just tell me lies when you wanna//

//I got more than you want ah//

//Oh, and by the way//

//I won't come running back//

//Running back to you//

//Then you'll think about love, all the good I gave to you//

//I won't come running back//

//Running back to you//

Vanessa Williams _"Running Back to You"_

~*~

Even though part of her said she should focus on something constructive, like dealing with the geeky trio that had been wrecking her life since she came back to it, Buffy found herself quietly entering her own house instead and trudging up the stairs.

Her feet fell heavily on each step so she wasn't surprised to find Willow waiting anxiously at the top of the staircase when she reached it. She reluctantly looked up from the floor to watch her friend fidget as she obviously tried to figure out what to say.

"Buffy," the woman tightened the sash of her robe and ran a hand over her very tangled red hair, "are … are you ok?"

"Spike's gone," she answered rather blankly then blinked as Tara peeked out of her mom – no, _Willow's_ - bedroom at about the same time Dawn appeared in her own doorway.

"What did you do to him?" the teenager demanded with fear and anger warring for dominance in her tone.

"I didn't do anything. He just …," she swallowed the lump in her throat then continued quietly, "he just left. They all leave."

"What do you mean he left? Where'd he go? What happened?" 

"You kinda saw what happened," Buffy sighed and sank to sit down on the top step. "I went to his crypt and he talked a lot and told me he was leaving and he left."

"A-are y-you ok?" Tara moved to kneel next to her and put a concerned hand on her shoulder.

"He left me," she felt a tear well up and fall from her eye. "He just … he said such horrible things. I think he hates me, has to hate me to talk like that, and now he's gone. Just stormed out, got on that stupid bike and took off."

"Is that really a bad thing?" Willow asked as she observed the interaction between her girlfriend and the Slayer. "I mean, especially after what we saw tonight and everything that's been happening lately with the way he is with you, his leaving's probably for the best."

It became obvious then that the redhead hadn't figured out the full extent of Buffy's relationship with Spike and neither Dawn or Tara had informed her that they'd been intimate.

"What happened?" Dawn asked again as she came to stand petulantly over her sister.

"I already told you," Buffy wiped at the tear on her cheek. "I went to his crypt - "

"What happened at the Magic Box?" the teenager interrupted.

"Xander knocked Spike around a little and was about to stake him when I got there. I shoved him off and there was talking, but I don't remember much, and then Spike told him that we had been … you know … and Xander left then I left and just started walking around. I don't know how long it took, but I ended up going to Spike's crypt and he was there, waiting for me, to tell me how much he hated loving me and that he was done and he was leaving and he left," a sob escaped her before she could hold it back and then she looked at her sibling. "He said to tell you he was sorry," she was remembered and told her sister, "and that he'd still watch out for you when he could. He just," she began crying as it all started sinking in, "he said he just couldn't stay here anymore. He left me," she laid her head against Tara's chest as the woman hugged her. "He can't stand being around me anymore and he _left_ **_me_**."

"You and Spike …," Willow said slowly, but Buffy could tell that Tara gave the redhead a look to stop the words. 

"I'm sure h-he'll be b-back, Buffy," the woman holding her said in an attempt to reassure.

"I don't think he will," she curled more into Tara's comforting arms and began to cry her confusion out on the lesbian's shoulder. "You didn't see him. Didn't hear him," she began rocking back and forth to try stopping the tears and get rid of the memories. "He really left."

"I'm sure he'll be back, Buffy," she suddenly felt Willow place an awkward hand on her back as the Wiccan spoke. "He loves you. He stayed this long … I … I mean … he even stayed when you were … gone … it's like he can't leave. This'll blow over and he'll be back."

"You think?" she turned to her friend with watery eyes and caught Dawn slipping quietly back into her bedroom out of the corner of her eye. 

She could tell the redhead found this whole situation awkward and uncomfortable and most likely just plain weird, but still Willow gave a rather sincerely reassuring smile and nodded almost convincingly.

It wasn't much, but it was something so Buffy grabbed it.

__

Ok, she told herself pulling away from another sob-fest on Tara's shoulder, _so he was gone. He'd be back. Spike always came back. _

Even before they were together he was irresistibly drawn to this stupid town even though it had only ever brought him bad luck. His long time relationship with Dru had unraveled here, he'd found and lost the Gem of Amara, hooked up with Harmony, gotten chipped by a secret government military organization, lost his ability to be a big bad, had to suck up all his pride to come to Giles and her for help and then … 

__

He'd fallen in love with her, a voice inside reminded but she quickly shook it off_. _

He'd allowed himself to be tortured by a bitch God to protect Dawn, been willing to die for her and her sister, stayed in this place he had to hate with every fiber of his being to keep a promise to a dead woman and been there for her ever since she was brought back from Heaven. 

Thinking of all that she pushed herself to her feet, mumbled something to the couple watching her curiously then went to her room to get her nightgown before walking into the bathroom to take a shower. 

She felt … _unclean_. 

Wrong. 

Like she just needed to get rid of her skin or something to just … stop whatever she was feeling.

When she stepped from the bathroom about twenty minutes later she heard Tara and Willow whispering in their room followed by giggles and definite sounds that the couple was back together.

And happy.

Buffy resented them for that. 

Envied them. All they'd been through and still they found their way back together and to happiness. 

__

Will I ever be happy again? 

Her steps are heavy again as she enters her room with that question in mind. After closing the door behind herself she finds her feet moving toward her bedroom window rather than the bed. 

She wraps her arms tightly around her waist as her green eyes lock on the tree in the front yard. 

__

How many times had she looked out to see him standing there, bleached blonde hair gleaming like a beacon in the darkness, a hint of red flame and puffs of smoke from the cigarettes he lit and smoked over and over as he just watched her? 

He hadn't stood in the shadows of that tree gazing up at her window for a long time now and it hit her hard on her raw emotions to realize she may never look out to see him there again. 

__

No, she tells herself firmly, _he'll be back._

A shiver of longing runs through her body as she forces herself to think of better things and finds her mind turning to a memory from just a few weeks ago. The night before Riley returned with his perfect little wife and ruined Buffy's little dream world by reminding her of how things had been so long ago. That thought was shaken off angrily and she latches on to the better memory of coming home from work and patrolling to find Spike lurking in the shadows of that tree. 

Her eyes fall shut as she remembers his smile and teasing tone as she called him from his hiding place. Remembers him wanting to be allowed into the house and her refusing then his tempting her to stay outside. 

__

"I want you," he had drawled so softly, seductively, _"you want me."_

It had been that simple then and she'd allowed him to press her against the rough bark of that tree to kiss her. He'd kissed her so softly at first that it had been easy to surrender. To forget about Dawn and the food she had been carrying for her sister's dinner. Forget about being outside making out with a vampire. So easy to just let her lips and body soften against his until his body and lips and hands became hard and urgent and she'd been swept away by all the feelings and sensations she felt in his arms.

Unbidden another memory intruded on that more pleasant thought and her eyes sprang open as, behind her closed eyelids, she stopped seeing Spike touching her and began seeing him as he had been tonight on that damned computer screen. Touching Anya. Kissing Anya. Screwing Anya and making the other woman feel all those sensations that Buffy had become so addicted to.

__

I hate him, she tells herself as her gaze returns to that damned tree and tears begin sliding down her cheeks. The words didn't fit, though. They didn't work. 

__

They weren't true.

Forcing her body to move away from the window she turned to crawl into bed and pulled the covers tightly around herself. Sleep didn't feel possible, though, even after the night she'd had. So she laid curled up on her side and remembered the dream she'd had the night she thought she'd killed Katrina. 

She'd been laying just like this in the dream, wearing the same nightgown as she did now, and Spike had climbed into the bed behind her. He'd whispered how it would be alright as his hand drifted down her arm and his lips touched her shoulder and his nude body pressed against hers. In that dream she'd believed him. Believed it would all be alright so long as he kept touching her like that and she'd turned into his arms, his kiss, to feel something good and try erasing the terrible thing she'd done that night from her mind.

Then the dream had gone all wrong, much like everything between them had. 

__

It was all over though. Tonight had definitely ended whatever she had had with Spike, she told herself firmly while ignoring the twisting ache in her chest at the thought. _No more of their fighting or fucking or hurting each other._

No more Spike.

That thought had her turning her head to sob into the pillow beneath her as her body curled into a tight little ball of pain. Everything was wrong tonight and she hated it. She just wanted to do it all over again and not have this hurt ever again. 

She cried until there was nothing left inside her. Until she literally felt empty inside again and her spirit welcomed that numbness as exhaustion weighed heavily on her mind and body. 

__

He'll come back, the thought whispered through her thoughts repeatedly and gave her the peace she needed to close her eyes and go to sleep.

~*~*~

Spike knew he was wasting time searching out Clem, but it wasn't like he actually had anywhere to be now and he had to talk to the demon. His blue eyes scanned the crowded demon bar until he located the door to the backroom where Clement was likely to be playing poker with the other guys. 

He felt the menacing stares of many patrons turn his way as he strode through the horde to that room and allowed his human features shift into their vampire façade to give the blokes a clue not to bloody mess with him tonight. He knew they all looked at him as the Slayer's bloody bitch and was done with it. 

But no more.

Anyone who dared to cross his path would get their damned head ripped off. After tonight he'd never be anyone's bitch again. 

__

No more fucking love for this git, he told himself with self-loathing as he burst into the back room.

"Piss off," he orders the others gathered around the poker table with Clem.

All four demons look up at him, angry at the interruption, but a feral growl coupled with his game face had the three unwanted occupants rising to collect their winnings and leave the room.

"So … um," Clem raised a hand to scratch behind one floppy ear, "did I forget to do something or … is this about that nacho cheese stain on your chair? 'Cause I know someone who says they can get it out."

"I'm leaving," Spike shut the door, shifted back into his normal features and flopped down in a chair at the table.

"Oh … you and that Slayer break up again?"

"Nothing to break up," he scoffed at the reminder of his delusions and snatched up a shot glass from the table, knocked back it's contents then proceeded to cough and spit repeatedly as the yak urine hit his taste buds. 

Fishing his flask out of his duster the blonde vampire began laughing uproariously at how that was so fitting. _Story of his bloody life and unlife_, he curses at finding only a swig of whiskey in the silver container but is glad to have that much to override the other taste, _reach out for something that looks good and wind up with nothing but a bad lingering taste of something vile in his mouth._

"Uh … Spike," Clem said rather worriedly to remind him of the demon's presence.

"Right, what I came here for," he sighed then refocuses. "Need a favor, mate."

"Sure, anything. Name it."

"Put word out and keep it out that any one, any thing messes with this Slayer or her family they deal with William the bloody Bloody. And keep an eye on the lil bit for me," he looked his friend in the eye as he began giving his orders. "She's goin' through one of them … bleeding 'phases' they go on about on the telly during the daytime talk shows. Make sure she stays outta too much trouble."

"I can do that."

"Take care of my crypt, too. Not the posh digs it had been before _her_ bloody farm boy blew it up, but it's still mine and holds a few things I can't take with me."

"Where you going?" 

"Hell if I know," Spike pulls out a pack of cigarettes and lights one up to take a deep draw of the smoke and nicotine. "Just gotta get the hell away from here," he exhales and stares blankly at the wall. "From her."

"So … this a vacation or …"

"You'll know soon as I do," he pushed abruptly to his feet. "We clear?"

"Yeah. Put the word out the Slayer and her friends aren't to be touched, watch out for her sister and take care of your place," Clem recited his list of favors to do.

"Record _Passions_ while you're at it. Might not always have access to a TV and can't miss a bloody episode of that show without the plot getting all addled up."

"I never got that soap," the demon again scratches at his ear. "The whole Timmy thing was freaky."

"Hey, now, don't go knocking Timmy," Spike responded automatically then once again laughed at himself. "God, how much more pathetic can I get before someone does the deed and bloody dusts me already?"

"Who says you're pathetic? I don't think you're pathetic," his friend is obviously trying to cheer him up. "I doubt Buffy thinks you're pathetic."

"Ha! Shows what you know, mate. Damned Slayer _makes_ me pathetic. All I've tried to do for that bloody bitch and it means nothing. She don't trust or love or even like me 'cause I'll always only be a damned vampire to her. A soulless, evil demon she'll never lower herself to do more than tumble a time or two 'cause she likes it too hard for the wankers she meets to scratch her itches," he sighs and gets to his feet, crushing his cigarette under his boot heel. "'Cept I'm not that bloody demon anymore. Can't be that monster now with this damned chip," he presses his fingers into his head with a furious growl. "Chip her damned Captain Cardboard put there and still I love the bitch. Nothing but grief, all she's caused me and I just keep – _kept_ – running back for more. But no more," a thought suddenly occurs to him and his hands fall to his side as a smile curls his lips. "Well, then, that's an idea," he says to himself. "No way I can be a man for her, she'll never take me as I am … why not give her what she bloody well expects? She'll only ever see me as a monster. I'll show her a bloody monster again."

"Spike," Clement said with a touch of worry.

"Got places to be now, mate," smile still in place he opens the door to leave this dive. "Remember what I asked you and I'll be in touch again."

Knowing the demon would do as asked, Spike left without further ado and stalked through the crowd with renewed purpose in his steps. 

Some twit of a vampire stumbled into his path and bumped into him and without pause the blonde grabbed the fledging and snapped it's neck for the accident. A path was instantly made for him to reach and exit the front doors without another incident.

Stepping out into the waning night he inhaled deeply then crossed the parking lot to his bike, humming Sinatra under his breath. He climbed onto the machine and glanced back toward Sunnydale as he lit another cigarette.

He'd stormed from his crypt determined to never set foot in that cursed town again, but now …

__

Oh, he'd be going back there, an evil smirk curled his lips as he inhaled a puff of smoke then slowly exhaled it. _Wouldn't be going back to her, but he'd be back. And he'd finally be himself again._

"Tried to do it a nice way, Slayer," he whispers into the night as if she could hear him. "Now we'll do it my way."

Swallowing the Nancy-boy urge inside that told him to go back - to stay there just to make sure she didn't die on him again, to keep trying to get through to her - he started the Harley and got back on to the highway that would take him further from her and, hopefully, closer to himself.


	4. Black and White

**__**

Black and White

//On the outside is forgotten//

//A constant need//

//To get along//

//And the animal awakens//

//And all I feel is black and white//

//The road is long//

//The memory slides//

//To the whole of my undoing//

//Put aside//

//I put away//

//I push it back to get through each day//

//And all I feel is black and white//

//And I'm wound up small and tight//

//And I don't know who I am//

//Everybody loves you when you're easy//

//Everybody hates when you're a bore//

//Everyone is waiting for your entrance//

//So don't disappoint them//

  
Sarah McLachlan _"Black and White"_

~*~

Buffy's eyes creep open after only an hour of sleep, but enough time has passed for dawn to be breaking outside her bedroom window. In that first instant of waking, everything bad is forgotten as she sits up to tiredly rub the grit from her eyes. Then the very tiredness that weighs on every aspect of her being reminds her of … 

__

What her life has become, she scoffs and bites her lip hard when the bitter laugh threatens to turn into sobs.

Methodically she rises from the bed, goes to her dresser to collect an outfit for the day then tiptoes through the silent upper level of her house to the bathroom. As she goes through the motions of getting ready she focuses determinedly on Slayer business and refuses to let so much as a hint of thoughts about … _him_ … to enter her mind. 

__

Well, any thoughts other than the mental decree that no thoughts about … **him** … would be allowed, she corrects herself as she gargles and brushes her teeth not once looking at herself in the mirror.

She knows what she'll see and doesn't want to see it so she can't let herself look in that mirror. Not now.

__

Maybe not ever again.

For the first time in her life she's ready to leave the house and venture out into the world without preening and making sure every aspect of her reflection looked in perfect place to fool everyone into believing she was a regular little Miss Sunshine. 

__

God, she hates this.

She grabs her leather coat and steps out the front door into the just beginning morning with her every instinct telling her to go to him because she's hurting here again and only he can ever make it better, but he's part of the problem now and she needs him here to kick his ass for doing this to her.

__

NOT, she mentally kicks herself a few dozen times, _NOT thinking about him._

The need to do something violent fills her and reminds her of the damned Geek Squad that had been messing with her for too damned long. An almost smile touches her lips as she buttons up her jacket and begins stalking without any weapons down the street toward the 'lair' where she'd find the losers to pound her emotions out on.

When she reaches her destination the door bursts off its hinges under her kick with a satisfying splintering of wood. She steps easily through the opening she created, walks down the few steps into the actual room and peers around curiously.

"All right," she calls out when she doesn't see anyone. "Let's make this quick."

Her green eyes look around and her ears are peeled for even the slightest sign of anyone being there, but it's obvious they've ditched the place. 

__

Can't really blame them for that, she thinks with a scornful glance at the décor. 

"I am not leaving till we have a little chat," she says just in case they can hear her somehow as she moves around the place rifling through things. "I may even let you twerps do some of the talking in between my kicking your pathetic asses," she offers while beginning to gather up some of the things she's looking through. "You really can't expect to hide from me forever considering the pummeling that needs to occur," she moves over to a shelf of geeky little action figures. "I mean, guys," she sighs and moves on to collect more things and start tucking her collection inside her coat. "Hellooo, Slayer here. Did you honestly think I wouldn't find you? Do you really think I can't do it again …," she trails off as she discovers more papers and tucks them away before going to the white-board the losers had noted many of their plots on.

It's flipped, preventing her from seeing anything on it, so she straightens it to get a good look at the white surface.

"That can't be good," she observes aloud as she sees "TOO LATE!" written on the board in green marker.

__

There are not words, she decides as huge buzz saws begin cutting through everything with every apparent intention of including her in their destruction, _to describe how much she hates these geeks._

With an agility she really didn't know she has she ducks and dodges the deadly blades, gathering more books and papers as she goes, and makes it up the few steps to get out the door. She keeps moving until she reaches the front yard then stumbles to the ground with a huff. Cursing the three jerks with every profanity and actual curse she can think of she pushes herself up and begins gathering the papers and other items that had flew from her hold when she fell.

Then she looks down at herself and freezes with her jaw falling open. Her jacket. Her brand new cute little red leather coat that she'd somehow managed to find on sale enough to buy for herself had obviously come into contact with one of the saws. She felt her stomach beneath the torn garment to check for blood and when her hand came away clean she vowed to herself that those dweebs would so pay for this.

~*~*~

After returning home with what she'd collected from the geek squad Buffy immersed herself in trying to figure out what exactly she'd managed to find and swore that it better be good for having gotten her coat ruined to get it. Tara and Willow had pulled themselves away from their making up in bed party to help out with the research and she was grateful because she and the books had never really been mixy things despite all the research she'd had to do over the years. Unlike Dawn, who was really proving to be a natural at catching on to little details and being an actual help with going through the items spread out on the coffee table in the living room the four women were gathered around. 

"These guys were obviously slobs," the teenager sighs as she studies the blurred ink on a piece of parchment that had obviously met with an accidental bath in some brown liquid.

"Their place was actually pretty organized looking except for the whole 'just grabbed everything they could in like five minutes and got the hell out of Dodge' air about it when I got there," Buffy doesn't look up from the … map? … she's studying to give that bit of unimportant news.

"This is really gonna take a while," Tara stifles a yawn as she looks up from the book she was reading with a little difficulty considering the text had been sawed in two during Buffy's exit from the basement.

"Would probably go faster if we had someone to translate geek," Dawn smiles to try lightening the mood.

"I think in many circles I've still got geek cred, but this stuff is beyond my geekdom," Willow returns the girl's smile then frowns at Buffy. "Maybe we should call Xander."

The slayer shakes her head with a sad smile, "I think we're gonna have to give him some time to get back in the Scooby mood."

All smiles fade from the four faces at the reminder of the previous night and their eyes drop again to focus on the items they're trying to make sense of. 

"We'll work through this," the redhead says with a quick glance at Buffy that tells the Slayer her friend refers to more than the research. "It may be slow, but we'll figure this out and it'll all be ok."

Knowing it's expected of her the blonde puts a big cheery smile on her face and looks at the three faces around her, "Yeah. We're good at this stuff. Those geeks don't stand a chance against our girl power."

Giggles all around at that and Tara and Willow get all snuggly wuggly with loving glances and little touches as the mood lightens once more.

Buffy's falsely bright smile grows brittle then falls away as she watches the lovers so happy and together and … in love. She forces the illusion of happiness for the couple back to her lips when her sister turns to give her a ecstatic look that indicates the teenager is on cloud nine to see one relationship going well again after last night.

__

God, how I hate this.

~*~*~

This was the last place she wanted to be, but as Buffy knew if she didn't force herself to have a talk with Xander right now while she was taking a much needed break from the Tara/Willow lovefest she knew her wandering feet would take her to a place she wanted to be even less than here. And she was far from ready to go near that place yet, so here she stood knocking on her long time friend's door waiting to be invited in.

After a few moments the barrier swings open to reveal the brunette in the same clothes he'd been wearing the day before and reeking of the cheap beer he holds a can of in his hand. She doesn't get an actual invite into his apartment, but he turns away and leaves the door open behind him in silent permission for her to enter.

__

She'd known this wouldn't be easy, she sighs inwardly as he stumbles toward his couch and flops down while she shuts the door and follows slowly after him to sit in an armchair next to the sofa.

"I think there's still a cold one in the fridge," he offers into the awkward silence as he crumples the empty can he holds and casually tosses it onto the pile around him.

"Thanks," she tries and fails at a smile in the face of his apathy, "but, uh, I think it's a little early for me."

"More for me then," he pushes back to his feet, moves to the kitchen to get the aforementioned beer then trudges back to his seat to pop open the tab and takes a gulp of the liquor.

"You shouldn't - " she begins then stops when his dark eyes openly challenge her, _of all people_ his gaze seems to says, to tell him anything he should or shouldn't do. "She loves you," she tries the 'consoling friend' approach. "You know that," she clenches her hands together in her lap and stares at her slender fingers. "Anya was just …," _God, why am I going there?_ "She was hurting and she did a really stupid thing. She didn't mean to hurt you," _or me._

"Yeah," he takes another swig of beer, "a stupid thing with _your_ boyfriend."

She has to bite her lower lip to stop it from quivering at the mention of the person she's trying so hard not to think of today.

"He's not my boyfriend," she whispers when she's in control again. "He's not my anything." _Anymore_.

"I know why Anya …," he looks at her with disbelieving eyes, "her I can understand why she would … with … that. I do, actually, but," he shakes his head and looks away, "you. You," he scoffs bitterly. "All those times I told Spike to get lost. He'd never have a chance with a girl like you. Thought he was just the same old stalking impotent evil one you'd sooner stake than touch," another mockery of a laugh escapes him and twists his features. "God, how could I have been so blind?"

"You don't know how hard this has been for me," she gets tired of feeling like a kicked puppy that deserves the beating and goes on the offensive.

"What? Lying to me? Lying to all your friends and fucking another vampire? God, Buffy, doing _Spike_?!"

"I do not have to justify that to you or anyone else," she rises to her feet. "You have no idea what you all did to me by bringing me back here. I tell you you yanked me from Heaven with your stupid spell and you just brush it off and leave me alone to deal with being _here_ again while you and Willow both go back to your own lives. I had no one else to go to after what you did so don't you dare look down on me for finding peace and comfort wherever I could. You have no idea how much this still hurts me. This is more than the Hellmouth now it's my Hell and _you_ brought me here."

"So you went to _him_?" Xander rises as well. "You went to … that _thing_ instead of trying to tell me this?"

"I did try to tell you," she looks him coldly in the eye. "I tried to tell all of you with that song and again when Giles was leaving and you wanna know what happened? _He's_ the only one that listened. You and Anya went about your wedding plans while Willow went all whacky with the spells and he was the only one there for me because you … none of you … wanted to know. You didn't want to know or deal with what you'd done and I don't blame you. It's pretty fucked up and I wish to God I didn't have to deal with it either, but that's the problem with not having a say in the selfish things other people do that involve you. I _have_ to deal with it then, now and for the rest of this restored life I never asked for."

"So you fuck Spike?"

"What I do with my personal life is _none_ of your business, Xander," she informs him coldly.

"It used to be," he sighs and sinks back down to the couch.

"That was a long time ago," she returns to her seat as well. "A lifetime ago. This thing with _him_ it … it just happened. I didn't plan it or expect it but it happened and that's all you get to know."

"Just happened?" he does that bitter laugh again that grates on her last nerve. "Oh, so it was like … uh, 'Say, you're evil. Get on top of me?' Or maybe the two of you were fighting naked and he just fell inside you. That kind of thing doesn't 'just happen,' Buffy. At least not more than once."

Her hands curl into tight fists as images swirl through her mind of all the times she and Spike had been together and all her reasons for rejecting him yet returning for more threatened to make her scream.

"You," she shook her head and went on the attack again. "You fought side by side with him while I was gone. You trusted him to help all of you and let him take care of Dawn."

"Yeah, we – I did," his brown eyes look straight into hers. "But I never forgot what he really is. William the Bloody aka Spike, slaughterer of half the innocents in Europe with his psycho sweety working on the other half. My God, what were you thinking?"

"You're asking me that?" she gives a bitter laugh of her own. "You, who have been such a shining example of making the right decisions of late, ask what _I_ was thinking?"

"I'm not saying I haven't made mistakes, but add all my stupid life choices up and they wouldn't amount to even the least bad thing Spike's done as a vampire. The things he and Drusilla did … the things he did as Angelus' prodigy … there's no comparison. He doesn't have a soul, Buffy, just the leash your ex's cronies jammed in his head. Take that away and he'd kill us all. You don't really think he'd still be all snuggles with you if that chip ever stopped working? Would you still trust him with Dawn?"

"It doesn't matter," she sighs and slumps a bit in the chair. "He's gone. We don't have to worry about that."

"Gone?" another scoff. "I'll believe that when I see it. He's been your freaking shadow for years now."

"Not anymore," that tightness returns to her chest at his words and yet another reminder at how loyal the vampire had been to her and how all that was gone now. "He's gone and even if he weren't I wouldn't be seeing him anymore. It's over," those two words echo sickeningly in her mind for a moment.

"There's a lot of that going around right now," he gets to his feet and storms past her to leave the apartment with a window rattling slam of the door.

Cursing the stupid voice inside her that had told her she had to try mending this fence, she sits there with her head dropping tiredly into her hands. Somehow she doubted going to Spike's crypt would have been more difficult that this hellish conversation that left such a bitter taste in her mouth.

She couldn't remember life being this hard before she died that second time, although the first time only felt like a minor technicality. The last time had felt so permanent and that's what made this all so wrong. 

She didn't know why she was even bothering.

She rose tiredly to her feet and wandered around the apartment until she came to the framed photographs on a bookcase. There she found pictures of all they'd been, but she knew they could never really be again. After all she'd been through this time there was no going back to that bright and shiny cheerleader in the picture of Willow, Xander and herself from high school. Willow was equally beyond the point where she could go back to the shy, computer geekish innocent girl she was in that photo. Were it not for the harsh words still ringing in her ears, Buffy would have said that Xander hadn't changed, but he too had been altered by the years that had passed. Sure, they all had elements in them of what they'd been, but … 

__

Those days were gone.

In that picture three friends were frozen in a time where the world had been scary, but full of infinite possibilities. They'd had each other and their families and Giles to guide and watch over them and they'd all still had the illusion of safety with those figures in their lives. Now they all had to stand on their own and that struggle for individual survival had changed them for better or worse.

She was expected by all of them to still be that girl and she _was_ trying, but for what? 

All that life - being that girl - had done was bring her to where she was now and, while she wanted to stay now that she really had nothing else to do but die, did she really want to pretend that was still all she was? 

When Buffy played that part her friends didn't see her dying inside. 

When she showed them what she now was they made it clear they wanted her to go back to the way she was supposed to be regardless of what it did to her inside to pretend. 

They didn't want her to be herself. They wanted her to be the bright eyed and bushy tailed cheerleader they seemed to have her forever frozen in their minds as.

She had two choices – pretend and continue to have them around for superficial support or face everything she now was, make them see it and risk having to stand completely on her own. Resisting the urge to destroy the picture she forced herself to put the item back in place and make her way toward the door. 

A heavy sigh escapes her lips as she leaves the apartment and shuts the door behind her.

If she'd started all these realizations sooner she wouldn't have to worry about standing alone. She would have had S … _someone_ to stand by and accept her however she was then and now.

That really wasn't an option now. 

__

Not, she tells herself firmly as she begins the long trek back to the house where the happy lesbians wait to show her how good their relationship was and exemplify how fucked up things between her and Spike had been, _that **that** had been a real option to begin with._

As always she only had one choice. 

__

Pretend.

Pretend to be a normal girl and daughter when in all actuality she had been chosen at birth to be endowed with superpowers to defend the world against things most people scoffed at as myths, legends, phooey and utter nonsense.

Pretend to be unaffected by the responsibilities that isolated her from everyone and everything.

Pretend to not love or be hurt by love and all the thousands of tiny slights she'd been dealt her whole life.

Pretend she didn't have needs and wants and feelings and fears that sometimes threatened to drive her insane … _actually kinda had driven her crazy just a week ago._

Pretend to be anything but true to what part of her knew herself to really be.

She walks toward home and knows that she'll go on as she always has. 

She'll take whatever reactions her 'loved ones' have to recent revelations and deal with them however she needs to to fix things and get them back to that picture perfect way they were supposed to be. 

She'll be a good friend and sister and worker and Slayer until it stops being so hard to play the part and she does it mechanically or until something finally gives and she can again be free.

She'll play her part and never let them see how much she hated having to endure it all.


	5. Save Yourself

Warning: This chapter and the last one contain some altered spoilers for "Seeing Red." This chapter also contains references to events involving Spike as seen in "Villians" and "Two to Go." Also, this chapter and the next do contain subject of a violent nature. They at both all about fighting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**__**

Save Yourself

//I know your life is empty//

//And you hate to face this world alone//

//So you're searching for an angel//

//Someone who can make you whole//

//I know you've been damaged//

//Your soul has suffered such abuse//

//But I am not your savior//

//I am just as fucked as you//

//I can not save you//

//I can't even save myself//

//So just save yourself//

Stabbing Westward _"Save Yourself_"

~*~ 

Buffy comes upon the amusement park just as Warren does his Incredible Hulk impersonation with the armored truck and, ironically, she is not amused.

Xander's warning that the geek had suddenly developed superstrength played like the sweetest music in her head as she watched the jerk rip the rear door off the truck to get to the money. She wouldn't have to take it easy on the poor vulnerable human this time.

"Hey," one trait she never has to fake, her clever repartee during fights, kicks in. "Is this your bank?" she announces her presence atop the overturned vehicle to the guy below. "'Cause if not, there's gonna be a fee for this and looks like I get to make you pay."

Ready to bust heads she jumps down at him only to be caught and thrown over his head with surprising strength. She easily gets up from where she landed an almost impressive distance away from him and brushes herself off.

"I was wondering when Super Bitch would show up," Warren smirks and stalks toward her.

"You really have got a problem with strong women, don't you?" she watches him closely to anticipate his next move and allow him the offensive until she sees a weakness. 

"Nothing I can't handle," he punches at her with his right and she ducks it easily, but then he counters so quickly with his left she hardly sees it coming before it's caught her on the cheek.

__

Ok, she thinks as she instinctively punches back after the blow, _that's going on your tab and you're coming to owe me a lot, buddy._

Amazingly he blocks her punch, grabs her arm and delivers another unexpected blow to her face. She's definitely on the defensive now and not by choice as they exchange a series of punches and she gets in a kick or two, but he's clearly unaffected by it all. 

"You seem a little off," he remarks casually as he sends her reeling back with a backhanded blow to the side of her head that kinda makes her ears ring. "This a bad day? 'Cause if it is I can just beat the hell out of you and save the killing until you're able to actually put up an enjoyable fight."

"Now's good for me," she regains her balance and kicks him as hard as she can right in that smug face and watches with a smile as his head snaps back. "And I think my day's getting better," she delivers a roundhouse kick to the side of his face that would have broken the neck of a normal person and she wonders what the hell is allowing him to take these blows. "Thanks," she punches and kicks until he's stumbling away from her, "for your concern though."

She follows his movements, grabs his jacket for leverage to flip over him to stand at his back then drives her foot into the small of his back to send the geek down to the ground. An exasperated sigh sounds through her mind as he gets immediately back to his feet with a condescending expression on his face. Eager to get rid of that look she grabs up the door he'd torn off the truck and slams it into him with all her might, knocking him hard into the stone gate at the park's entrance.

"That all you got," he scoffs at her seconds before the gate collapses from his impact and buries the bastard in stone and debris.

The blonde of the geek squad makes a sound of anguished protest that draws her attention from the rubble covering the fallen nerd to the two still standing.

"Ok, boys," she looks at them both coldly and moves menacingly in their direction. "There's two ways this can end for you. And right now? I'm thinking they're both gonna hurt."

"I think you're right," Tucker's brother says with a smile at something behind her. "It's really going to hurt _you_."

Buffy turns and, with an inner 'what the …' of disbelief, sees Warren calmly emerging from the pile of stone he'd been under.

"What's the matter baby?" he brushes dust from his jacket and gives her a leer. "You never fight real man before?"

"Still not fighting one now, uber-geek," she returns her attention to the tall brunette and instantly goes on the attack.

He's anticipating her charge, though, and ducks to avoid it then comes back up to land two quick blows to her face and chest. She remembers to duck on the third and tries to deliver a roundhouse kick to his unprotected ribs. Suddenly the vulnerable side is protected by a blocking arm that stops her foot and while she's trying to get it back he punches away with his other hand. Tired of the abuse she breaks away, takes his formerly restraining hand in both of hers, twists it to a painful degree then slams her hard tipped boot into his soft stomach. He grunts at the blow, but easily breaks her hold on him and tries to attack. She ducks and weaves to avoid his punch and from her slightly crouched position kicks upward to again snap his head back with a blow to the face. He falls back against the armored truck, no sign of blood or pain or tiredness about him and she gulps in air to prepare for further battle as he straightens.

"Wow," he rubs his jaw. "That almost hurt, kitten."

No witty comeback springs to mind as she strikes out at his approaching figure. She kicks, he blocks. She punches, he takes the blow and keeps right on coming. He grabs her arm after one punch and slams his other hand down on the bone and she's bites back a cry of pain as she's pretty sure it just broke. He kicks her and all she can do is stumble backward as she feels the impression of his boot in her gut. As Andrew cheers for her death from the sidelines, Warren grabs hold of her coat and pulls her toward him to viciously slap her face like the abusive bastard he is. She tears herself free as fury fills her and he instantly knocks her back with a right hook before catching her behind her unsteady legs to send her toppling to the ground.

She lays there panting for breath for just a second, feeling her whole body ache and searching her brain for something – anything – to end this without her death being the conclusion.

"You know who I am? Huh," he moves to stand cockily over her, "Slayer?"

"You're a murderer," she shakes off all thoughts and gets back up slowly as he watches.

"Well, yeah, that too," he actually looks proud of the title, "but more to the point," she punches at him only to have the blow blocked and receive a punch in return that sends her reeling back away from him a few feet. "I'm the guy that beat you," she charges at him for that statement only to again be knocked back hard. "And it's not the muscles, baby," he kicks her in the gut and she's now pretty sure that this has got to be a Warren-bot she's fighting. "It's the brains," he pauses in his blow to tap smugly at the side of his head as if a great volume of intellect dwells there.

"I'll remember that," she inhales deeply to try centering herself to find some way to beat him, "when I knock 'em clean out of you - "

Suddenly Jonathan, _that twerp_, leaps onto her back with his arms going tightly around her neck as she stumbles under his squirming weight.

"Whoa!" Warren says encouragingly to the barnacle she's trying to pry off her back. "Sparky, I didn't think you had it in you."

She continues to tug at the arms around her neck until she hears whispered urgently in her ear, "The orbs. Smash his orbs!" 

Wondering what the hell 'orbs' meant she throws the guy off and finds Warren ready and waiting to continue his assault on her. She blocks a few of his punches while Jonathan's words replay in her mind, but she misses one blow and it sends her slamming into and through a wooden bench. She rolls tiredly onto her back in the remains of the seat and sees her assailant closing in for the kill.

"Say good night, bitch," the brunette orders and slowly draws his arm back to deliver what would surely have been the final blow.

His upraised arm reveals to her almost resigned gaze a pouch on his belt. She doesn't know exactly what it is, but as it's rather out of place she's thinking that's where the orbs are. While his arm is still drawn back she lunges forward with renewed strength to grab that pouch, rip it off his belt and smash it's contents to pieces on the hard pavement. Blue light flashes from the pouch, suffusing Warren then appearing to pull something out of him and into the destroyed contents of the bag. He looks dazed by all this and Buffy knows a moment of triumph as she leaps to her feet.

"Good night, bitch," she says happily with a hard spin-kick that sends the geek flying back toward his loser friends. "You," she advances toward him as he gets to his feet looking scared like he should, "you really thought you could beat me? You are nothing," she reaches him and grabs onto his shirt to lift him off the ground, "but a sad little boy, Warren. It is time," she twists her hand in the fabric she's holding to tighten the collar of the shirt around his neck, "for you to grow up and pay for what you've done. This isn't a game," she stalks forward to slam him against the wall of a concession stand as she continues her lecture while police sirens draw nearer. "This is life and you've ended Katrina's and screwed mine up for the last time. I," she jerks him forward then slams him back against the wall, "am the Slayer. It is my duty to kill vampires and demons and help this world avoid the apocalypses that spring up just about every year around here like clockwork. You," she slams him furiously against the wall again as she hears the policemen slowly approaching and encouraging her to put the man down, "are not part of my job description," she releases her hold on his shirt and watches with satisfaction as he crumbles weakly to the ground.

Feeling like a great weight had been taken off her shoulders Buffy turns to face the police, answering their questions and watching happily as all three of her self proclaimed 'arch-nemisises' were shoved handcuffed and defeated into the back seats of police cruisers.

__

Finally something to feel good about since coming back.

~*~*~

After a solid week of globe trotting, Spike knew he'd finally found the place. There was such power in this isolated village in the wilds of South Africa that there was no doubt about his last source having known what he was talking about.

__

Almost enough to make him sorry to have snapped the demon's neck after getting the info, the vampire thinks with a slow exhalation of smoke from the cigarette he was smoking as he stalked through the villagers.

The apparent chief of this tribe tries to stop him, but Spike pushes onward toward the cave he can feel the power emanating from.

"Not asking for permission, mate," he tosses down his fag and stomps it out outside the entrance as the villager goes on and on about how he cannot enter.

He enters the dark cave with the chieftain continuing to shout warnings after him, but as the man does not follow Spike continues on. His steps slow as even his heightened eyesight can't make anything out in the enveloping darkness of the hole in the ground and he fumbles around inside his duster for his lighter. He flicks the Zippo open and uses it's flickering flame to explore his surroundings as he moves deeper into the cavern. The walls all around him are decorated with images of people. Their faces show various degrees of pain, bodies with blood gushing from gory wounds, images of dead and dying beings in the most gruesome stages of their death. 

"Alrighty, then," he says quietly as he refuses to let the images disturb him. "William the bloody Bloody here, not likely to be bothered by finger paintings."

A sudden breeze blows past him and extinguishes the flame that had been illuminating the drawing of a figure in black holding out it's arm toward a red and bleeding man. Sensing that more sudden gusts of air would put out the lighter if he tried using it again, Spike flips it closed and tucks it back away with a resigned sigh. He vamps out to better his sight and resumes making his way through the pitch black.

After progressing an unknown number of feet he stills as he senses the presence he was searching for.

"You seek me, vampire?" the demon's deep, gravelly voice booms through the underground chamber.

"Nice work back there with the finger paintings," Spike quips to cover his sudden nervousness. "You do that?"

"Answer me," the demon orders and shifts in the darkness to reveal the outline of his large figure and the glowing green eyes that shine in his head.

"Yeah, I seek you."

"Something about a woman, I believe," the thing drawls into the silence. "The slayer."

A growl escapes the vampire at the reminder of his mission and he nods.

"Thinks she's better than me. Made me her bloody whipping boy. Ever since I got this bleeding chip in my head, things ain't been right. S'all gone to hell," the blonde vents.

"And you want me to return you to your former self," the demon asks knowingly.

"Yeah," he nods and an evil laugh escapes the beast. "What?"

"Look at what she has reduced you to," the thing scorns.

"It's the bloody chip - "

"You," the demon continues as if Spike hadn't opened his mouth, "were a legendary dark warrior and look at how you've let yourself be castrated. Still," the thing laughs again in the face of Spike's growing anger, "you have the audacity to crawl in here and demand restoration?"

"Yeah, I do," he faces the demon without hesitation. "I'm still a bloody warrior and I have the right to get back what's mine."

"You are a pathetic excuse for a demon."

"Oh yeah? Maybe to humans I am with this bleeding chip, but I can bloody well show you pathetic," Spike shrugs out of his leather coat and readies himself to fight the demon. "Give me your best shot."

"You could never endure the trials required to grant your request," the thing ignores the challenge.

"Do your buggering worst," he replies. "But when I win … I want what I came here for. I want things back the way they should be," he demands as the demon says nothing. "Bitch is gonna see a change in her bloody lapdog."

"Very well, vampire," the demon's eyes glow brighter. "You will compete in the trials for what you desire and should you, by some miracle, succeed your request shall be granted. Your death will be quite creatively slow and torturous when you fail, though."

"Won't bloody fail, you git, now how about you just bring it on already?"

~*~*~

A seeming eternity later Spike sighs and paces the dimly lit cavern in all his naked glory, as he'd been informed that he would be doing this without any weapons or protections sans his own body, while the bloody demon watches and asks if he understands.

"Yeah, I get it," he stops and faces the beasty. "It's not like you haven't been brain numbingly clear about it, oh great mysterious one. This is a bleeding test, much as I expected when I searched your scaly arse out, and I don't get what I want unless I pass said test. That about the size and shape of it?"

"That is an oversimplification of the process, but yes," the demon hisses.

"And since this pad is decked out gladiator-style and no number two pencils have been provided even I can suss out that we're not starting with the written exam so enough dawdling and lets get this bloody show sta …" Spike's voice trails off as his senses detect a presence behind him and he turns to see a very large, no-neck muscle bound type of guy lumbering toward him. "Here we go then," he takes a deep unnecessary breath to brace himself. "Just me and the walking action figure," he looks from said figure to the demon in charge. "I'm venturing this is a kill-or-be-killed type of situation, then?"

"To the dusty death," the demon confirms then melts into the shadows.

"Right," the vampire drawls then faces his opponent again. "Here we are now. Entertain us," he tells the man who gives him a blank stare in return as he holds up his wrists, smacks his forearms together and both his hands suddenly burst into flame. "Oh, son of a bitch," Spike groans as the flaming fists instantly fly in his direction.

He manages to avoid actual contact with the fist heading toward his jaw, but the flames still burn across his flesh causing a angry hiss of pain to escape his lips. He drives one of his own tightly clenched fists into the big lug's chest and feels the impact jar from his knuckles all the way up to his shoulder as it feels like he slammed the hand into solid rock. The fiery handed bastard knocks him back and slugs him in the right shoulder with a flaming fist that sears the skin and cracks the bone beneath.

"Bloody hell," he groans while stumbling back to recover from the blow.

Game face sliding into place, he straightens and lunges at the muscle bound jerk, fists and feet flying, but making little progress. He, on the other hand, was getting more of a beating that he'd like to admit. The bloody bastard marks his stomach and chest and face with his fiery punches then slams a meaty fist into his head and knocks Spike to the ground with his features reverting back to their normal, human status. The bugger has no compunction about hitting a bloke while he's down and drives a fist into the right side of the vampire's flesh. As the man rears his hand back to strike again the blonde scrambles back away like a crab from the next blow. It does little good and the burning hands latch onto his shoulders to pick him up off the ground and throw his battered body hard against the sharp rock wall of the cave.

"Had enough?" he asks with his trademark snark as he picks himself up from the pile he'd slumped to on the ground and wipes at the blood trickling from his mouth.

The taste of his own blood is always bitter when he gets a taste of it from being on the losing end of a blow in battle. The taste restores his anger and fighting spirit and all Spike does is stumble backward a bit from the bastard's next series of punches. He stumbles back into a column of rocks and swings around it to come out behind his opponent and take a strong swing at the other man's head. The bugger ducks the blow, whirls around and punches the blonde back against a wall of rough rock. His sore body bounces against the unforgiving surface and the flaming fists pummel at him as he's pinned there until he can take no more and collapses once more to the ground. 

Giving up - just laying there – has never been an option for Spike. No matter the beating he springs up and keeps dishing out or taking it and that's the way he'll be until he's dust. His body was beaten, bruised, burnt, bloodied and damned near broken, but it was still intact and with a feral growl he vowed to himself it would bloody stay that way.

Sucking up the pain and burying it deep down inside himself he sees the next punch coming and doesn't dodge it. He shoots out his hand and meets the blow. Ignoring the flames scorching his fingers and flesh clear to the bone, he takes the other man's hand in his own clenching until he felt bones crush and snap – his or his opponent's he didn't know – then violently throws the hand aside and shoves the meathead back with a strong push. He takes a moment to look at his damaged hand and curse the thoughtless action that had caused the injury then refocuses. Flame-boy throws another punch and Spike weaves to the side to avoid the blow then grabs onto the meaty forearm that brushes past his shoulder and uses the hold combined with the bastard's momentum to send his attacker flipping through the air to slam onto his back on the ground. With his enemy fallen the blonde quickly moves in for the kill, kicking the muscleman viciously in the gut and side to flip him over onto his stomach. He then drops down to straddle his opponent's huge shoulders before grabbing hold of the other man's head to violently wrench it around and easily snap the lug's neck.

"Looks like," Spike pushes to his feet, nursing his burnt hand and panting down at the now dead 'walking action figure,' "local boy loses."

"So it would appear," the demon in charge reveals his presence in the shadows with little more than the glow of his green eyes.

"Good on me, then," the blonde continues to pant for breath as he stares at those shining little orbs. "I get what I came for. Passed your bloody test, right?"

"Indeed," he senses an evil note in the demon's voice. "Remarkably you have passed the first stage of the test."

"Right, I get …," his gasps for unneeded breath slow to a stop as the words sink in. "Wait. First stage?" his only answer is those eyes glowing with a hint of blue mixed in with the green. "Bollocks," he groans as he knows there is much more to come. 

He weighs what he's here for against the wounds he's already received from this first of God only knew how many steps to get what he desired and closes his eyes to regroup as he knows he'll go all the way. There's no turning back and even if there were he wouldn't. It wasn't in him to back down at this point. _Never had the smarts to know when to run_. And he'd chosen this path knowing it would not be easy. He was willing to take it however it came. 

This was the only way to get his self back from Buffy's bloody hold and nothing would stop him until he accomplished that mission or died trying. Not exactly wanting to live forever, but knowing damned well that he wasn't gonna go out like this Spike allows the calm of his inner demon with all it's thirst for death, blood, violence and victory to spread throughout his mind and body.

"Bring it on," his blue eyes gleam with flecks of demonic gold as they look straight into the glowing green circles staring out at him from the darkness.


	6. Dyin' to Live

Warning: This chapter contains altered spoilers for the scenes from "Grave" containing Spike's completing the demon trials and having his request fulfilled. Contains more references/scenes of violence. Also, strong language as I forgot to warn for in the last chapter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**__**

Dyin' to Live

//Why am I fighting to live, if I'm just living to fight//

//Why am I trying to see, when there ain't nothing in sight//

//Why am I trying to give, when no one gives me a try//

//Why am I dying to live, if I'm just living to die//

Tupac featuring The Notorious B.I.G, _"Runnin' (Dyin' to Live)"_

~*~

Shuddering from the workout the tag team duo of pointy eared Gollum-look-alike demons had given him, Spike tosses aside the head he'd finally managed to rip off one of the nasty buggers and turns menacingly toward the other one. The remaining bitch, he was guessing at the gender but felt confident he had it right with the way the thing screamed like a bloody banshee at his decapitating her partner, lunged at him with claws slashing wildly and gouging cruelly into his flesh as only a female could use such instruments of torture.

"Bloody buggering everlasting hell," he snarls as he fights to control the writhing imp tearing at his flesh while making so much noise he wondered if his eardrums would ever recover.

Somehow he manages to grab onto the thing's wrists and crushes the fragile bones there while yanking out the fingers that had been buried in his chest. He throws the shrieking mass away from him with a hand going to his bleeding flesh then leaps back as the demon comes at him with kicks and bites so fast he barely manages to avoid them. 

"I'll have your head," he growls furiously after knocking the thing to the ground only to have the bitch latch onto his ankle and sinks it's razor sharp teeth in clear to the bone, "mounted on my bloody wall for that."

Kicking her viciously away from him his watchful eyes sees her scramble to her feet as she prepares to attack again. He goes on the offensive, lashing out with rock hard fists slamming into her thick aged skin until he had her leaning weakly against a wall of the cave and clearly beaten. Trapped she begins that God awful racket that his ears are already too damaged to really appreciate and he reaches out to rip her head off it's slender neck and stop the racket.

Carrying the dripping head like a trophy he stumbles toward the larger chamber where the bastard in charge likes to lurk and tosses it in the direction of his belongings with every intention of keeping the bloody thing as a souvenir. 

"That was a bloody doddle and piece o'piss," he remarks sarcastically for the audience he senses in the shadows. "Got any more ready tests for me, you ponce?" he snarks even as he's collapsing to his knees with such a need for blood and rest that he doesn't know how much longer he can go without either. "I'll take anything you can throw at me," _not looking forward to much more_, he adds silently, _but he'll bloody well take it_. "Keep having your fun as long as it'll get me what I need to take care of the Slayer. Give her what's coming to her," he sniffs angrily at the thoughts of Buffy stirring in his mind and shifts to a sitting position on the hard ground. "You just bring it on. I'll beat your bloody games and get what I want so you just bring on the whole …," he stops as a skittering sound reaches his recovering ears, the kind of sound lots and lots of insects make when rushing toward a common goal. "Bloody hell," he grunts as scarab beetles begin pouring into the chamber and running over every inch of his skin.

Many of the nasty buggers bite into his tough skin and begin burrowing beneath the flesh, making him sharpen his fingernails to the claws of his vampire façade to begin tearing at his body to dig the bugs out as he scrambles to his feet. He feels then inside and out, moving and crawling and worming their ways into places he's never even felt before. Tearing at his neck he manages to keep two from making their way up into his skull where they would have wreaked havoc on his brain. His bare feet stomp over what seems to be hundreds of their hard shelled little bodies as he makes his way toward another chamber where a single torch burnt. Not knowing or caring if it was allowed he stumbles toward that light, tears it off the wall and shoves the flame down at the flesh eating bugs still skittering after him. They dart away from the heat and he uses the break to finish removing the insects still clinging to the outside of his body then digs beneath his skin to cut out the ones that had burrowed. 

That done he proceeds to search out every last one of the possibly thousands of scarabs that had been unleashed upon him. He crushes each one with his hands and feet, uncaring of the sharp little pinchers at their mouths that continue to tear at and bloody his skin. 

Torch in hand and miraculously still lit he listens carefully for a single skittering screech of more bugs and looks around to make sure there are no more to deal with before slouching against a wall and slowly sliding down the rough rock to sit on the ground.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" his eyes nearly pop from his head as he turns to locate the source of that question.

"Buffy?" 

"Please, don't expect me to believe all … this," he watches her step into the light cast by the torch and wave a contemptuous hand toward his bleeding and abused body, "is for me."

"Oh, it's for you all right," he swallows convulsively and tells himself it's not really her. "'S for your bloody death." 

"You really think you can kill me? You really want that?" she takes a seat across from him wearing the jeans and coat she'd had on last he'd seen her. 

"I get this bleeding chip out and I'll rip you to pieces for what you've done to me."

She throws back her blonde head and laughs like he's made the cleverest joke.

"Oh, that's rich," she gives him a coldly condescending glare. "We both know the chip doesn't stop you from doing that. The thing doesn't work on me now. If you really wanted to," she snickers again in amusement, "'rip me to pieces' you'd already have done it."

"Couldn't," he looks down at himself with shame. "Love you too much."

"But this is gonna change all that?" she asks skeptically with scornful eyes taking in every inch of the cave then returning to rest dismissively on him.

"Damned right it will. That's the deal," he looks into eyes so like hers, but he knows them to not really be Buffy's. "I finish these bloody obstacles and I get my demon back. No more chip, no more love, no more you inside me. I finish this then I come and finish you."

"Oh, shaking," she rubs her arms sarcastically as if chilled by fear. "Let's rewind a few babbles here. I believe there was something said about 'what I've done to you.' Fascinating statement, that," she rests her elbows on her knees and props her chin up on her hands. "Tell me about all these things I've done to you."

"You've got her bitchy 'tude down to an art, whatever the hell you are," he says with a hint of admiration, ignoring her request. 

"You want to finish this you have to go through me," she says in just the way his Slayer would. "Tell me what I've done to you."

"This to be one of those oral exams?" he leers at her then runs his tongue suggestively over his top teeth and lip. "I can think of a better way to pass it than chit chat."

She moves so quickly he doesn't even see it happen. In the blink of an eye she's moved from sitting pretty to straddling his legs and knocking his head back into the stone he's leaning against.

"This is my show now and I will not tolerate that swaggering bullshit of yours," she orders with her green eyes glowing a bit like the demon's.

"You've definitely been doing your homework, pet," he smirks at her dominance. "Heard this song before."

"I could so easily," her fingers trail seductively down his neck then curl tightly around the column of flesh, "snap this right in two and be sitting in your dust, vampire, so do not push me. We both know how you like to shoot off at the mouth. This is the easy part so long as you just give me the answers I'm looking for _and_ _only the answers I'm looking for_," her fingers tighten cruelly on his throat. "We clear?"

"Clear," he gasps when she removes the strangling grip.

"Good, boy," she taps his lips and sinks back on her heels, still straddling his legs and ready to leap forward and rip his head off if he gets snarky again. "Now, I repeat for the last time. What have I done to you?"

He looks into those green eyes set in _her_ face and answers as if telling Buffy what's brought him here.

"You broke me," he begins slowly, thoughts slowly coming together to form words and sentences. "Something happened to me a long time ago, first bloody time I saw you and you were so different from the other Slayers, and no matter how I thought I wanted to or tried I couldn't kill you. Bloody hated you for that. Bleeding weakness for you ruined what I had for a hundred years with Dru," he accuses. "Ruined a hundred years of enjoying carnage and mayhem. Ruined me," he gazes bitterly into those eyes and tangles his hands in her upswept hair. "I fell in love with you, full force. Gave you every bloody thing I have in me and it was never enough to make me more than dirt beneath your pristine feet. Woulda given my life for you any time you asked and all you did was give me a few crumbs to gobble up and build stupid hopes and dreams on then you bloody shattered it all. Broke my heart into a million bleeding pieces, walked right over it out the door of my crypt and didn't even care," he looks into her face with near hatred on his. "But I'm the heartless, soulless, evil, undead thing," he scoffs and can't stand to be near her double any longer. "I'm a vampire and I've got more humanity in me than you've ever shown me, you bloody bitch," he pushes her away and climbs to his feet. "Least I show my victims some mercy and fucking kill them when the torture's done. You just kept stringin' me along and pilin' it on until all that's left is this," he looks at his body scornfully. "This pathetic, broken, ponce reduced to begging a demon for the strength to get over you."

"Yes, the pathetic is so accurate a term," she scoffs behind him and he hears her shift to her feet. "So, I'm a little heartbreaker," she appears in front of him with a sugary sweet smile on her pink lips. "Cool."

A growl builds up inside him at her expression and tone and he strikes out only to have his fist stopped in midair by an unseen force.

"None of that, sweetie," she tsks. "We're still talking here. Now, feel better getting all that off your chest?"

"No," he snarls and lowers his hand. "Won't feel better till I drain the last bloody drop of blood from your veins."

"Oh, stop, you're turning me on," she flutters her eyelashes coyly. "Back to the matter at hand. You call this love … what you feel for me - "

"_Her_. I feel nothing for whatever the hell you are, but I look forward to getting to the fight to the death part of this little game so I can shut your blathering gob," he interrupts.

Her fist flies out and snaps his head to the side before he even thinks to expect a blow.

"I was talking. Not you," he spits out blood from a cut his teeth made on the inside of his cheek. "I have the floor and you will not speak again until I've asked you a question," she smiles brightly in response to his murderous glare. "We clear?"

"Crystal," he snaps.

"That's more like it. Sit," she waves a hand and sends him stumbling to his knees then sitting on his ass against the rock wall. "Now, I believe we were discussing this so-called 'love,'" she laughs at the word and begins to pace casually before him, "you feel for me. Frankly, _love_, it sounds an awful lot like hate to me, what with all that bitterness you speak with and of course the 'request' you're here to have us fulfill. Do tell me, William, how can you call it love?"

"It just is," he sighs sensing he was about to rehash a few arguments he'd had with the real Buffy.

"But you're a vampire," she seems to be mocking things the Slayer has said and he looks at his inquisitor curiously. "You've no soul to love me with all your soul," she points out flippantly. "Your heart's a shriveled dead and useless thing in that hollow chest of yours, so I doubt you can love me with all your heart," she reasons. "There is, of course, the body with which two people can love each other, but without the heart or soul that's just lust. So," she looks him in the eye, "how can you love me? What have you got to love me with?"

"Oh, you're good," he glares at her. "That's very Buffy of you. Got an answer for that one, though. Love – real love, great love, the love I feel for you – it's the kinda thing you know in your bloody bones. The very fiber of your being. It's so deep in my mind, just like this bleeding chip, inside my entire being, that I can't get it out. The soul may be gone, heart may not beat, but there is still a kind of life inside me. I can still feel and think and do just about any bloody thing you do – good or bad," he states. "You think a whimsical little vapor like a soul or a bloody useless organ like the heart are all there is to loving someone? Something? Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. That's where you've always gotten it wrong. Hearts and souls are romantic notions wasted on people like us. What we have is bodies, minds, essences, raw emotions, primal urges and all the bloody good, bad and ugly that makes for real everlasting love. For better or worse. Sickness and in health. What I feel for you is eternal and unending and deeper then a heart or soul can go. I have everything that matters to love you with and I love you with everything I have."

"Aww," she raises a hand and wipes at his face and he shuts his eyes tightly at the realization that she's brushing at tears he didn't even know he'd shed. "That's beautiful. Pity she'll never fall for that line. She requires more than your everything, vampire," he cringes away from that truth and the thing's caress. "You come here and ask for … What is it exactly that you want? Vengeance against her?"

"I want to be what I was. I want this bloody chip out and the bleeding leash off so I can be what I'm _supposed_ to be. I have to kill her. I tried to make things different. Tried to live in her world, be one of the good guys with her bloody friends, but it didn't work," he sighs at that failure. "It's not vengeance, it's just the only way it can be," he forces his blue eyes to look into those hauntingly familiar green ones. "I can't love you. You've made it bloody clear you don't want it and you won't take it and you'll never return it. That leaves us enemies again, pet," he forgets she's not really Buffy and gently strokes that golden face. "We've gotta end this dance once and for all. It's gone on too long. I'm so tired of the circles we go in. So tired of the games. It hurts me and it has to end."

"There's another way," she reaches up and cups his face in both hands. "We can give you," her fingers gently stroke over his lips, "what you need for her to love you," he raises his hands to still her fingers and looks at her questioningly. "It all comes down to what you want more. Do you want this Slayer dead or for her to love you back?" her eyes glow curiously as they look deeply into his as she awaits his answer.

A response is instantly on the tip of his tongue, but for once he holds back his words to actually think this through. 

He'd thought, especially since she came back, that Buffy could and in fact did love him, but that had all proved to be more of the pathetic delusions that had plagued him his entire existence. She was yet another dream and the most vividly illusive one he'd ever dared to have. And all his dreams soon became nightmares. Cecily, Dru and Buffy all brought nothing but pain and misery that he could only enjoy for so long before it began to break him. And a spirit could only stand to be broken so many times before it shattered irreparably.

He was done giving that much power to bitches who never cared to acknowledge even a fraction of his efforts. He was done falling apart.

"I want," he sighs and gives the vague answer that is all he can muster, "it to be done with."

"We can do that," her eyes gleam eerily at his words, almost as if satisfied by them, and she steps away. "Now for your final phase. Just do this one more teeny little thing and you get what you want." 

"Right," he looks at her suspiciously, "what's it to be then?"

She stands before him with a loving expression on her perfect replica of Buffy's face and answers softly, "Kill me, Spike."

~*~*~

He told himself if he didn't move he wouldn't feel and he could forget. He laid flat on his back on the cave's floor with his hands and eyes clenched shut and told himself for the hundredth time that it hadn't been real. Hadn't been her. Wasn't really Buffy's body lying dead and still just a few feet from his. He told himself all that, but it didn't matter.

Reality had blurred during the battle and it had all been so bloody similar to all the times he and his Slayer had fought and he had begun to fight Buffy – the real Buffy – in his mind. In the end he had vamped out and sunk his fangs into _Buffy's _neck before viciously tearing her throat open and leaving her to fall to the ground and bleed out until the heart inside her ceased beating.

Spike lay there knowing that he'd done what he'd claimed for so long to have wanted. 

__

Killed the Slayer. Watched Buffy die at his own hands.

He felt … too much to cope with yet numb at the same time. 

"You have endured the required trials," he hears the demon's deep gravelly voice above him and pushes aside his swirling thoughts and emotions to get this over with.

"Bloody right I have," he maneuvers his body to a kneeling position as opens eyes swollen almost completely shut from blows they'd received to stare at the creature. "Completed your bleeding test like I said I would so now you'll give me what I want like you said you would. Make me what I was," his eyes drift uncontrollably to the lifeless body that still resembled his Slayer so. "Gotta give Buffy what she deserves," he whispers hoarsely, having no idea what exactly it was she deserved but knowing it was not the same fate he had dealt her double in that final phase.

"Very well, vampire," his attention is drawn back to the demon with it's glowing green eyes. "You shall have that which you seek. We will take away your chip," one demonic hand reaches toward Spike's bleached blonde head, "and give back your soul."

The beast's other hand presses to his chest and the most extreme pain he's ever felt tears through Spike's entire being. He feels torn in two by the chip being yanked from his skull and the soul being jammed into his chest. His head flies back and he screams until his throat is raw and he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to speak again.

Then the painful hands are removed and it all stops. His body collapses once again to the ground and he can't move or think or feel as the world fades in and out painfully.

"You have gotten what you came here for," he vaguely hears the demon say. "It would seem you are indeed a warrior still. Now you must take what you have been given and learned here to find out if you are still the dark warrior of such notoriety, William the Bloody, or will you be going another way."

Those words weasel their way into his fading consciousness and follow Spike into the utter oblivion he slips into the recover from his battles.


	7. Blurry

Warning - This chapter has a bit of a spoiler from season 7's "Lessons," but I've tweaked the timeline. Instead of it being the end of summer/beginning of next school year, it's about the beginning of summer break.

A/N: Quick note of thanks to all my reviewers thus far – Watermelonz, Darklover, Dragonqueen12, Lissa5, Kev, Shinna and Spikealicious and sorry for the delays in updates. I've been having ideas all over the place for vids and fics and I've got a touch of add lately with everything I do. I'll start something think of something else start the something else think of something else do that something else then remember I have other things in the works that need finishing and waste lots of time debating which thing to get back to work on first.

Spikealicious, thanks for the holiday wishes and I hope your Thanksgiving was good. Early wishes for happy holidays ahead. :-)

Kev, I'll take the song lyrics out from here on out, 'cause they are pretty pointless and getting more so as I find it impossible to really sync them up with what I'm writing. All chapters will continue to be subtitled with songs that are pretty much inspiring what I write in each installment, though. I'll just put in a note to cite the artist who recorded the song in case anyone wants to check it out.

That said this chapter is inspired greatly by lyrics from Puddle of Mudd's song _"Blurry." _

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**__**

Blurry

It took her a solid month to go near his crypt and the only reason Buffy was there right now was because of the stupid fledgling who ran in that direction before tripping up and letting her dust the damned thing. She stands a few feet away from the stone monument brushing the vampire's dusty remains from her clothes and tucking away the stake she'd used to slay it. 

The place looked just like she remembered it. Not that she'd really expected it to change just because …

__

He wasn't in it, a voice finishes quietly inside her head causing her heart to do that annoyingly familiar twisting thing in her chest that seemed to happen even more frequently every day instead of easing like it should be with the time that passed.

She tells herself yet again that that ache was not her missing him. 

__

What was there to miss? His taunts or punches or constant and annoying presence or the piece de resistance – his sleeping with her friends. Her eyes squeeze shut at the sting of that memory. 

Shaking her head to clear those wasted thoughts she turns and prepares to leave the cemetery then wrap up this patrol when sounds from within the crypt reach her ears. 

__

His television's on, she recognizes the noise and slowly turns back to face the tomb. _He's watching TV._

Telling herself that she was just going to tell him to get the hell back out of town and ignoring the stinging thought that he had returned without seeking her out the second his feet touched Sunnydale soil again, she creeps toward the door to the crypt. Hesitantly she places a hand on the wooden barrier and focuses her senses on detecting his presence on the other side, needing to feel that connection with him again that she had felt the last time she stood on this side of the door like this. But none of her senses are telling her that Spike is anywhere nearby. 

With a frown at the lack of that distinct tingling of her spidy sense that lets her know he's the demony thing lurking beyond her vision she pulls back to stare at the crypt's entrance in confusion. The confusion clears and quickly turns into a furious glare at the idea of something else having the gall to move into Spike's place.

She kicks in the door without even realizing it until she was stomping through the splintered remains. 

"Show yourself," she commands as her eyes scan the inner chamber and sees the television on with a bucket of Buffalo wings sitting on the floor next to Spike's armchair, but doesn't see the culprit.

"Slayer?" a familiar voice sighs with relief from the other side of the sarcophagus she and Spike had made love and laid on together the last good moment they had had together. "Geez, you scared me," Clem stands up, scratching at one of his floppy ears. 

"Clem?" she frowns at the demon. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm staying here now," he moves over to the armchair and picks up his food. "Want some?" he extends the greasy bucket toward her and she shakes her head distractedly. "Didn't Dawn tell you?"

"Dawn? Tell me what?" she looks at him in confusion.

"That I'm staying here," he waves for her to have a seat in the chair, shuts the tv off and settles himself on the coffin he'd hid behind. 

"Why would she tell me that?"

"She stopped by after Spike left. Kinda didn't believe he was gone until she saw it herself. I talked to her some," he explains while fishing out a wing to eat on.

"She's been here?"

"Just twice. That time and last week to watch a Real World marathon with me. We played some Parcheesi despite her wanting to play poker. She's a great kid," he gives her a friendly smile. "You're really doing a great job with her all things considered."

"Uh-huh," she flops down in the chair and stares at him. "Thanks. So … what do you mean you're staying here now?"

"Sweet pad like this," he looks around the sparsely furnished yet well lit and somehow welcoming crypt, "goes empty for a few days and someone else is bound to claim it so Spike asked me to watch it for him. Plus," his gaze lands on the television and he grins, "I don't have TV or cable at my place."

"So you're just watching the place for him?" she relaxes as a kind of relief floods through her. "Until he comes back," she looks at the loose skinned demon and tries not to show any telling emotions. "When will he be coming back?"

"He didn't say," Clem finishes off the wing and drops the bone back into his bucket before pulling out another one to eat. "I kinda got the impression that he'll be gone for a while if he ever comes back."

"If he ever …," she repeats quietly with her eyes widening at hearing someone actually say something along those lines in her presence. "He's coming back," she says firmly to herself and the demon. "He has to come back," she whispers for her ears only.

"He said he would and I guess he will for his stuff if nothing else, but I really don't think this is a good place for him to be anymore. I think he's realized it, too. He seemed pretty done with it all when he left," he goes on eating and casually speaking about things that are causing her guts to burn and churn like she's developing an ulcer. "I've known him a long time now, but I've never seen him like that before."

"Like … what?" she has to know if he saw the same Spike she had that night.

"Angry for the most part, but that was really covering the hurt. He was just torn up inside and …," Clem answers easily then pauses thoughtfully, "and defeated I think is the word I'm looking for. I've never seen him so close to giving up before and he's really had some hard times in all his years. I mean, Drusilla … need I say more? It's hard to believe a little thing like the Slayer could …," he trails off and goes completely still as he remembers who he's talking to, "could … um … do such incredibly good things for humanity."

"Yeah," she smiles weakly at the lame attempt to cover up what he'd been about to say. "I should be going now," she rises and moves slowly toward the door.

"You thought I was him, didn't you?" she stops in her tracks at the quiet words. "That's why you came in."

"No. I knew it wasn't him," she looks at the broken door in front of her then turns to the demon with an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that."

"Not a problem," he assures her then tips his head curiously to the side. "Why'd you barge in then?"

"I just didn't want someone else trying to take his place," she answers after a moment of thoughtful silence and the smile fades when the words take on a different meaning inside herself as she hears them from her own lips.

"You miss him, too, don't you?" Clem asks as she averts her gaze to the floor.

"Too?" she looks back up a bit surprised.

"No, not me," he shakes his head slowly with a grin at her expression. "Although, poker's not as fun with his lame attempts at cheating. I meant Dawn. She puts on a brave face when she comes over, but I can tell she's expecting him to walk back in like he's just been out for a stroll," he looks into her eyes. "Same as you were doing."

Finding herself unable to deny that no matter how much part of her wanted to she simply turns on her heel and moves quickly from the crypt. 

~*~*~ 

Two nights later Buffy stood back and watched Dawn take on her first vampire alone. The fledgling was a rather sad excuse for evil, having needing the Slayer's help from his grave claiming to have had his foot caught on a root or something in the ground, but he was more than enough challenge for the teenager. 

With a rather impressive move for a rookie Dawn flips the vamp onto his back and plunges the stake she's holding into his chest. Unfortunately she makes the rookie mistake of missing the heart and the tables quickly turn with the fledgling grabbing the teenager from behind and taking his fangs to her neck.

"Buffy," her sibling cries out as the sharp incisors pierce her flesh and the Slayer springs into action.

She yanks the jerk away from her sister, delivers a few punches and kicks to confuse him then pulls her sword from where she had it planted in the ground and cuts the thing's head off. 

"It's real," she puts the weapon aside and moves to Dawn's side as soon as the dust clears. "That's the best lesson you can learn from all this," she continues her tutorial on the fine art of slaying. "Every time you enter one of these situations, it's real. Real fighting, real pain, real bleeding and real likelihood of dying. Never forget that."

"It's just a scrape," Dawn says, pulling away when the blonde moves to check her neck. "Plus," she gets to her feet and states glibly, "I had a plan the whole time."

"Oh really?" Buffy asks skeptically with a genuine smile as she begins packing up the weapons they'd used patrolling.

"Ya-huh," the brunette grabs her share of stakes and they move on to finish their sweep of the cemetery, "I planned to get killed, come back as a vampire and bite you."

"You wanted to be trained," she reminds the girl.

"Trained, yes. Offered up to a vampire by my very own sister," Dawn says sulkily.

"I didn't offer you up to him," green eyes roll at the very idea, "I was right there the whole time to make sure nothing seriously bad happened."

"You told him he could have my blood," they stop and blue eyes glare at her just a bit.

"I meant he could _try_ to get your blood. Had to give him incentive to actually take part in the training session."

"Same difference," the teenager flips her long brown hair back over her shoulder and resumes walking.

"You did good," Buffy concedes, proud of her sibling's efforts.

"I did? Really? 'Cause, you know, with the whole rolling thing I was actually using his own strength against him and it was very tai chi." 

"Yeah, I saw that. It helped you get the upper hand pretty quickly," the Slayer compliments. "You just kind of lost it just as fast."

"Well, yeah," her sister cringes a bit in embarrassment at that fact. "I nearly had his heart, though."

"Close like that only counts in horseshoes," she points out, silently reminding the girl that this isn't a game. "My first time out," she confesses at her sibling's crestfallen expression, "I missed the heart, too."

"No way," Dawn practically glows at that revelation.

"Just that once," she replies cockily.

For several moments they walk along in a comfortable silence, really just strolling through the dark graveyard without paying much attention to their surroundings. Demon activity in town had dropped massively since … _in the past month or so_ making patrols rather boring of late which was why Buffy had finally given in to her sister's pleading to start training. Plus, it was good quality bonding time that was guaranteed to keep the teenager out of trouble over the summer break from school.

"How much longer do you think he'll be gone?"

The hesitant question stopped Buffy in her tracks and without looking around she knew exactly where they were. 

__

Spike's crypt.

"You don't still have that crush on him, do you?" she asks her sibling, remembering Clem's allusion to the fact that the girl was also waiting for the bleached blonde vamp's return to Sunnydale.

"Big no on that," Dawn declares like the very idea's absurd beyond words. "The whole Buffybot thing cured me of any romantic warm fuzzies for him, but … when you were gone he was … he was my friend and kinda like a big brother and I miss that. I hadn't been able to really hang out with him after you came back, but he was still here if I needed him or wanted to talk to him but now … Don't you miss him?"

"Sometimes," she answers quietly, her green eyes finally resting on the familiar tomb.

"How 'bout we go see what Clem's up to?"

"I wonder where he is," the teenager says, ignoring her big sister's body language that spoke of a major not wanting of this discussion. "Do you ever wonder what he's doing?"

__

All the time, Buffy thinks with a last look at his crypt before silently turning and walking toward home with her sister falling silent as she jogged to keep up.

~*~*~

"This isn't a safe place for sweet young things like you to play at night," a voice drawls from the alley's dark shadows, causing the lone woman walking through the passage to freeze in her tracks.

"Who's there?" the chit looks around herself nervously with her hands clutching at her purse strap.

"Just one of the many nasty things that go bump in this night, luv," Spike slowly emerges from his hiding place with a predatory expression on his face. "Didn't your mum or da warn you 'bout big bad wolves who prey on nummy li'l treats like you?"

"What do you want?" the girl stumbles fearfully away from him toward the street. "I've no money, but you can have my purse," she slides the strap from her shoulder and shakily offers him the bag.

"Tha's good, but beasties like me," he vamps out and moves quickly to snatch her around the waist pull her hard to his chest before she can think to run, "we've not much use for accessories."

Her scream was stifled by his palm as he presses his face into the crook of her neck, relishing the way fear of him made her blood pump faster through her lithe little body. The rich ruby red liquid he knows to be thrumming through the delicate veins so near his deadly fangs calls to his demon and he can practically taste it. All he had to do was turn his head a tiny bit and his elongated incisors would be cutting through her flesh like a hot knife through butter and the hunger inside him would be satisfied. The demon would be pacified for a while.

Then he feels a tear touch the hand he has over her mouth, feels her pleas for mercy against his palm and the terrified shaking of her body against his. The intoxicating thrill of her fear fades away along with his vampire façade as his bloody soul once again fills his mind with images of the thousands he has slaughtered like this over the past century and he knows he cannot add another innocent life to that collection. Cursing fluently in several human and demon languages he hurls the chit away from him and stalks back into the dark shadows with his leather duster flapping angrily around his legs. Vaguely he hears a choked sob followed by rapidly fleeing footsteps down the alley behind him and he curses again as another meal gets away without him even sampling it.

"Bloody had it with this," he snarls while searching in his coat pockets for his cigarettes and lighter as he trudges out onto the main street and makes his way down the sidewalk to the address he's been haunting for over a week now.

He leans back against a darkened shop front and stares up at the apartment across the street, debating yet again the merits of entering the building and knocking on that door. There was nothing that stuck in his craw more than asking _him_ for help again, but as had been the case those other times Spike was in a bloody inconceivable jam and the prat was the only one he could think of to be able to help. 

He'd tried to tackle the bloody demon who did this only to find that the bastard had relocated while the vampire recovered from his trials with the help of the village chieftain. After that he'd spent weeks verifying that the chip was no longer present to keep him from hurting humans, killing them if he wanted too, but the bloody soul had been making it's presence felt the whole damned time and he found he didn't _want_ to kill and maim like the good old days. 

__

Who the hell was he trying to kid, he asks himself bitterly while watching the poof move around his apartment. _It wasn't the bloody soul stopping him. He'd been stopping himself since he fell in love with Buffy and now he just didn't have a taste for it._

"Just what I deserve for going to a buggering demon for a solution," he says aloud to himself and growls menacingly at the couple walking past him at the particular moment. "Right there," he inhales a deep puff of smoke and exhales it slowly while watching the pair scurry past, "perfect example. If the bloody pillock had done what I asked he'd," he glares after the man, "be dinner and she'd be dessert for me," he watches moodily as the duo disappear around a corner. "But no," he puffs again angrily at his cigarette, "the bleedin' bastard _had_ to give me another bloody test. 'Take what you've been given and see if you're still a dark warrior or if you'll go another way,'" he mocks the final words he'd heard the demon speak after restoring his soul. "Can't go another bloody way, mate, I'm a vampire," he growls angrily, as if the thing were there with him. "Meant to be evil," he throws down his fag and exchanges vices by pulling his flask of whiskey out and taking a gulp of the burning alcohol. "I asked for the evil. Wanted Dru to turn me from that pathetic tosser I'd been into her dark prince. But this," he laughs scornfully at himself, drawing worried and fearful glances from passersby at his apparent madness. "Didn't ask for a damned bit of this. Didn't want that damned Slayer in my heart or the bloody chip in my head and I sure as hell don't want this bleeding soul back. Rubbish is all that is," he slides down the wall to sit on the sidewalk and glare up at the window he was watching. "Don't you think for a bloody second," he snarls up at the apartment as if it's occupant can actually hear him, "that I'm gonna be like the damned poof with this thing inside me. Soul's nothing but smoke and mirrors and I can still be evil if I want with or without it," he empties his flask and sighs at the loss of liquor. "Just my bloody luck."

__

He'd have some good stuff, Spike thinks as he reaches for another cigarette while staring up at the window. 

Christ, but he hated asking this one for help again. 

Not that the bastard was all that likely to help him out. He'll most likely get staked for knocking on the damned door and then the pillock will stop to wonder what the hell he'd wanted. Or if the wanker even heard him out it'll be Dustville for Spike the second the 'no longer chipped' bit of news is revealed.

__

Chip had to have fried some vital brain cells judging by the stupid decisions he'd been making of late, he lit the fag and began puffing away at it. _Only explanation that made sense for him coming here for help. Hell,_ he gives a bark of scoffing laughter, _only bloody explanation that made sense for him even remembering this address._

"Enough of this," he pushes back to his feet with a snarl, crushes the cigarette beneath the heel of a boot, brushes off his duster then stalks purposefully across the street and into the apartment complex.

He stomps up the stairs to the second story flat his target is in, rakes his hand through the unruly curls of the hair he's been allowing to grow out, tries to make himself look 'presentable' then takes a deep breath and raps his knuckles against the door. His ears pick up strains of some bloody boring symphony and he rolls his blue eyes impatiently before curling his fingers into a fist and pounding a few times on the wooden barrier to be heard over the music. Footsteps are soon heard inside, approaching the door and he can sense someone on the other side looking out through the peephole at him.

"I need your help," he sighs a moment later when the door is opened and a cross shoved in his face. "Please," he stands up straight and looks the man in the eyes uncaring that he's begging, "I wouldn't be here if it weren't serious."


End file.
